


Wishful Thinking

by feistypants



Category: The Locked Tomb Trilogy | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir
Genre: F/F, after the pool scene, anyway, bittersweet maybe?, but before everything else, my feelings are out now so we're fine, there's a lot of repression here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:20:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26454784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feistypants/pseuds/feistypants
Summary: Harrow has an idea. Gideon goes along with it.After all, who isn't a fan of waking up to pretty girls straddling them?
Relationships: Gideon Nav/Harrowhark Nonagesimus
Comments: 16
Kudos: 113





	Wishful Thinking

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pikkutay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pikkutay/gifts).



Gideon woke with a start, her bed sinking just slightly before her hand darted out to find the cool metal of her knuckles. Without a second thought, she found herself winding up for a sucker punch to the jaw of whatever was looming over her.

“Wait --” 

A second more to aim correctly.

“Nav--”

Small hands encircled her wrists, and the familiarity of the calloused skin was the only thing stopping her from ramming her head up to break the intruders’ nose. 

“ _Griddle_!”

Eyes widened above her as she finally felt enough of her vision coming back in the dark room to _just_ make out the narrow silhouette of the Reverend Daughter.

“What the _hell_ , Harrow,” Gideon sighed, dropping her head back to her pillow and letting go of her tight grip on her weapon. “Some warning next time! I mean, you know I don’t mind a girl straddling my hips at my _worst_ but --”

“Stop talking,” Harrow huffed, rolling her shoulders back as she released her hold on Gideon. “I was hoping you _wouldn’t_ wake.” A heavy silence fell over them as Harrow pulled at her lip, clearly unsure of how to proceed. 

Gideon could feel her back already protesting the uncomfortable twist of her spine, and tapped the (bare? Very _bare_ ) skin of her necromancer’s thigh. “Take all the time you need, but I need to shift. My spine isn’t meant to twist this way.” She paused, locked her eyes on Harrow’s and lifted her brows in question. “That all right?”

Only a small nod came from above her before Gideon placed firm palms on both of Harrow’s legs, and twisted her hips to lay flat beneath the others’ weight. Fortunately for Gideon, there wasn’t much weight to worry about. _Unfortunately_ for Gideon, the thin sheet trapped between them left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

She supposed she’d have to reexamine that warm swoop in her stomach _later_.

“I’ve been thinking --”

“Oh, that’s new.”

A cold narrowing of her eyes was enough to make Gideon bite her tongue.

“Sorry.”

“I’ve been _thinking_ …” She paused again and Gideon could feel her eyebrows raising in anticipation. A moment passed, then another, and then Gideon couldn’t hold back her groan. 

“Come on, Nonagesimus. Don’t leave me hanging here.”

Harrow scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest, shifting to sit heavier on her bottom. “Well I was _hoping_ you’d be asleep! I needed some time for… reconnaissance.”

Her still tired brain wasn’t sure she had heard that correctly. “Reconnaissance… for _what_?”

If it hadn’t been so dark, and Gideon hadn’t been so sure that the Reverend Daughter was incapable of it, she could have _sworn_ that her cheeks darkened in a blush as Harrow moved her gaze elsewhere in the room. “Well,” she started, voice suddenly devoid of any emotion. “As we are well aware… many of our fellow cavaliers and adepts are… close. Very close.”

Gideon did her best to ignore the way her fingers dug slightly into the warm flesh beneath them. She should probably let go of her thighs, she thought passively, before proceeding to not remove her hands from the necromancer’s skin. “Seems to be the norm, yeah.” She let out another breath as Harrow’s eyes snapped to hers. “S’pose that’s what happens when you’re conditioned to live and die for someone, right?”

“It would seem we are at a disadvantage.” Her lips twitched down, and she dropped her hands to her lap, shrugging. “Well, less so now, I suppose.” A small snort of laughter escaped Gideon as Harrow swatted at her, frown deepening. “What is so funny?”

“Nothing, nothing.” Gideon sat up just slightly, now sure as hell that there was _definitely_ a flush spreading across Harrow’s nose. It was new, and somehow sweet, and Gideon couldn’t help but admire the softness it brought to her angled features. “I’d just think that confessing secrets and holding one another in a pool for a while and, you know, _everything else that happened_ … would get me more than just a _less so, I suppose_ ,” her voice rising with a friendly mockery.

Harrow let out a noise of indignation and pressed her palms flat against Gideon’s chest, just above the line of her bandeau. “Fine! If you’re going to be so… insufferable about it.” She applied light pressure and the cavalier found herself obeying the wordless demand as she laid back flat against the bed. “We’re closer now, Gideon.” 

Her heart gave a soft flutter beneath her ribs, and she swallowed hard against it.

“But I … wonder. Possibly.” There was a small waver in the necromancer’s voice as she leaned forward, the space between them decreasing. “I want to try something.”

Gideon felt her shoulders rise to her ears, warmth starting at her nose and rushing towards her throat. “Uh, yeah, yep, sure,” she mumbled, her fingers seeking out the warm skin of Harrow again. “Whatever you say, _tenebrous overlord_.”

There was a heavy silence and a small tilt of Harrow’s head to one side. “Griddle?” Her hands slid higher, pausing for just a second at Gideon’s throat, and she thought this might be the moment Harrow snapped and killed her.

She swallowed once beneath the necromancer’s fingers, her voice squeaking just above a whisper. “Yeah?”

“Please don’t speak. And don’t touch me while I do this.”

Gideon dropped her hands back to the bed, digging them into the sheet. “All right.”

Time seemed to slow to a near stop, and all Gideon could hear was the blood rushing through her as thin, nimble fingers twitched against her neck, then her cheeks, before settling gently around her ears, lining the curve of her jaw. Harrow inched closer, the distance between them quickly becoming nonexistent, and Gideon used all of her mental fortitude to ignore the shift of their hips, angles changing in the best and worst of ways.

“Har--”

“I said,” she whispered, her voice quivering as her breath ghosted over Gideon’s skin. When did she get _that_ close? “Do not speak.”

Another moment passed, and suddenly Harrow was pressing her chapped lips hesitantly against Gideon’s, and Gideon…. Well Gideon felt every thought she had ever had the nerve to think leave her brain. 

What the hell?

What was she supposed to do?

Harrow, the Reverend Daughter, The Lady of the Ninth House was _actually_ kissing her, Gideon Nav, the _indentured servant_ , who up until a few hours ago she was sure the necromancer _loathed_ and--

_Fuck!_

Gideon had been staring up at the soft furrow of Harrow’s eyebrows, admiring the sharp curve of her nose until Harrow pulled away, just a hair, and opened her eyes again. _Wait_ , Gideon’s mind was screaming, _come back_.

“So…” She started, noticing that their noses were still brushing together, but doing her best to remain calm and _not_ reveal the inexplicable want that was stirring in her chest. “Seems even _you_ aren’t immune to my good looks, huh, Nonagesimus?”

Harrow startled away from her then, the darkness in her cheeks enhanced as she shoved her palm against the side of Gideon’s face. “You’re absolutely intolerable, you know that?” 

As she laughed, Gideon swore she saw the start of hurt twitching at the corner of her necromancer’s lips. “Wait, wait,” she started, lifting one hand to rest in the middle of Harrow’s back. “I’m not laughing at _you_ \- I just… I wasn’t ready.” It only took gentle pressure before Harrow was leaning back towards her. “Give it another go, yeah?”

Harrow sighed but came forward again regardless, pressing her palms flat on either side of Gideon’s head. “If you laugh again, I will rip your bones straight out of your skin.”

A nervous breath of a chuckle snuck out of Gideon’s lips before she clamped her mouth shut and nodded once. “Noted.”

And then Harrow was back, her mouth slanting slowly over Gideon’s, and Gideon’s hand was still pressed firmly against Harrow’s spine, and Harrow was warm, and giving, and far more soft than Gideon ever thought was possible of her Lady of the Ninth House who had almost killed her more times than she could count. 

She kissed her back, this time.

Slowly, and only slightly.

Until it was more.

Harrow’s fingers grazed the edge of Gideon’s neck, touching gently as she pressed on, when an encouraging whine vibrated from deep in her throat. Gideon took this as a positive, turning her head just a touch to the side before barely parting her lips. She would never have imagined this, not _this_ , at any point in her life, but everything was seeming to fall into place and starting to make _sense_ as Harrow’s bony digits scraped just below her jaw and the almost unrecognizable warmth of her necromancer surrounded her senses.

Gideon thought she could continue kissing her until she had no air left in her lungs.

But then she made a mistake.

Her hand slid up the length of Harrow’s spine, strong fingers just managing to burrow into the hair at the base of her skull for a split second before she felt Harrow pull away, pushing Gideon’s arms back down onto the mattress. “I--” Harrow breathed, scrambling off of the bed as quickly as possible, as if she were running away.

Gideon dragged her hands down her face, hoping that her movements would go unnoticed. “Harrow?”

“Pointless,” she heard mumbled from the top of the bed beside her.

“What?” She risked turning her head to face the lump of a person lying face down in the bed. 

“That,” Harrow started, sitting up just slightly. “Was pointless. I’m ashamed I even considered it.”

Gideon blew out a deep breath before pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes. “Sorry to disappoint, My Lady.” She laid there in silence for a moment, wondering if she should say anything else. Gideon was sure she had felt something and could have sworn that Harrow did too… but was trying to ignore the new ache that burned beneath her ribs. “I’ve never had any complaints before.”

“Who in the universe have --” There was a groan, and then a shifting of bedsheets, and then an irritated “go to sleep, Griddle,” as Harrow whipped the blankets up over her head.

Yeah, _right_. She wasn’t going back to sleep tonight.

“Yeah, okay.” She turned to her side, tucking the limp pillow under her neck. “Goodnight, Harrow.”

A few moments passed before she heard a quiet, “goodnight, Gideon.”

And the hollow in her chest roared.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fun new dynamic I haven't written before, but hopefully I did all right for my first try at them!!
> 
> I have a lot of feelings, and these are some of them.
> 
> (tbh this fic was written out of spite because I just started HtN the other day and when I read that ****** got to **** ****** and ****** did NOT.... I was forced to write this.)
> 
> (I haven't finished HtN yet pfff but I couldn't hold off. Anyway.)


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